Toeing the Line
by timydamonkey
Summary: Crossover with Harry Potter. Pre HBP. Being stuck on holiday with the Dursley's was bad enough, but being questioned by investigators only a week after arriving really took the cake...
1. Prologue

Toeing the Line:

Disclaimer: I own neither Danny Phantom nor Harry Potter. No profit is being made...

Author's Note: Huge thank you to my good friend lunakatrina for helping me with terminology and the Southern American accent of my completely unimportant OC (he's just there for backstory) because I am hopelessly British. You think his accent's bad now? You should have seen it before!

I wrote this because I like writing crossovers that are different to the others floating around. Hopefully it'll be just as decent as the others are. The story is in two 'parts' - prior to the prologue and after the prologue. Hopefully that won't be too confusing. Reviews appreciated. Anyway, on with the story:

Prologue:

The one downside of having to tell people that you went to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, Harry mused, was the way that when something troublesome happened, you automatically became a suspect.

He was sitting with his hands on the desk in front of him, twiddling his thumbs, staring at the wall. The desk had papers strewn across it haphazardly. He'd make it his job to not touch them. He could feel the eyes of one of the officer's in front of him boring into his skull. The other looked as excited to be there as Harry himself felt.

The silence had stretched for what felt like days. He'd always imagined that being in a room like this would mean he'd be interrogated, with questions being fired like bullets, but apparently it wasn't the case. He didn't know if the lack of questions was a good or a bad thing.

He barely knew why he was there, to be honest. He was still dazed, thinking about what he'd seen.

"Did you do it?" the first officer asked, finally breaking the spell of silence.

Harry blinked. "Do what? I'm not really that sure why I'm here." He was sure that he'd been told, but he'd been a little dazed about the idea of being blamed by law enforcement for something that he'd had no part in at all. He saw the officer's face twist in anger, so he added, "Sorry, sir," to the end of the sentence.

"I want to know," the officer said through gritted teeth, "if you had any doing in destroying the… restaurant." He glanced at the top sheet of the pile of papers. "The Nasty Burger," he added for emphasis, his face screwing up in distaste at the name. Harry didn't really blame him.

"I didn't do anything!" said Harry emphatically. "I only went there to get something to eat! I didn't know anything was going to happen, and I certainly didn't _cause_ it!"

Aunt Petunia threw him a look. Harry grimaced. He'd almost forgotten she was there. Of course, any mentioning of anything weird… well, Aunt Petunia would believe it, wouldn't she? It wouldn't occur to her that he wouldn't use magic if it meant he could be expelled from Hogwarts…

Although he'd come uncomfortably close. Maybe he would have drawn his wand if the police officers hadn't come, but that would be self-defence. Maybe even being expelled was worth it if he could save some lives.

He supposed this was what Hermione called his 'hero complex'.

"Who else did then!" exclaimed the officer, apparently losing any patience he might have had with Harry. "We found you there, and-"

The more carefree looking officer pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up. The nastier officer gave him a filthy look, which was tactfully ignored. He pressed the cigarette to his lips and took a puff. When he'd done so, he held the cigarette gingerly in his hand and remarked, "You ain't doin' a very good job, Finley. You oughta know that ain't proof."

Finley glared back, and said as respectfully as he could muster, "You're undermining me, sir. I thought you weren't meant to interfere, just to watch."

"Ah," the guy tutted, gesturing vaguely with his hand, "I ain't interferin', just suggestin'. Y'all're touchy…"

Finley gritted his teeth.

Aunt Petunia took the moment to hiss to him, "Boy, if you or _your kind_ did anything-"

"I didn't!" Harry exclaimed, a little too loudly, as the men both turned and stared at them. Finley looked suspicious, but the more laid back guy actually looked amused. Lowering his voice again, he said, "It wasn't me Aunt Petunia, I swear. It was like nothing I'd seen before…"

Finley cleared his throat, and they both turned back around, but not before Aunt Petunia glared at Harry, as if daring him to be lying. For once, he could safely say he wasn't.

This time, the question was reworded. Finley began, "If you didn't do it – despite us finding you at the scene of the crime-"

"-With a bunch of other people, who noticeably weren't brought here," Harry muttered under his breath, clearly losing patience with the way they were getting nowhere.

With great self-restraint, Finley ignored him. "Then who did? What happened?"

There was a long silence, and Harry wondered the likelihood of being sent to an insane asylum if he described what actually happened. Perhaps it would even be breaking the Statute of Secrecy. He really doubted talking to Muggles about ghosts would earn him any favour with his aunt, either.

But maybe he'd never get out of there if he lied. He'd made his decision.

"It was a ghost," he sighed, staring in defeat at the table.

Finley stood up from his chair so quickly that it was flung half away across the floor as he said, "That's preposterous! People know that ghosts don't exist!"

"Actually," drawled the still smoking man, a smirk on his face, "that ain't true."

Harry blinked. "You believe me, sir?" It was in his best interests to still be polite. Was the man a wizard?

"You're making it pretty dern obvious you ain't from 'round here, Finley. Amity Park's been full o' ghosts for the past few months."

Aunt Petunia, Harry mused, could really do a very good impression of a goldfish. Finley didn't look that much better. The other man grinned at Harry, looking as amused as Harry felt. He was also looking expectantly at Finley, whom Harry guessed was of inferior rank.

"What did this ghost look like?" Finley sneered.

"There were two," muttered Harry. "There was a lady. She was rather, uh…" He gestured awkwardly in front of him.

"Fat?" The man grinned at Harry, taking another puff of the cigarette.

"Um, yeah," said Harry. He hadn't been sure if it was the most appropriate description to use, but apparently there was nothing wrong with it. He tried to remember how the ghosts had looked. "She had grey hair, and wore an apron and this pink net hat… and there was a boy who looked younger than me. He had white hair and green eyes, and this black lab suit on… and they both looked really corporeal."

They'd looked quite destructive too. Ghosts didn't scare him – there were enough of them at Hogwarts – but they shouldn't be able to hurt anybody… let alone be corporeal. There was obviously something going on in Amity Park…

The way Finley was looking at him, Harry was just waiting for him to snap, 'Ridiculous!'

"Boy," Aunt Petunia hissed from next to him, "why are you making up tales about that… abomination you have?" Maybe, Harry wondered, Aunt Petunia thought he'd somehow conjured the ghosts. The Dursley's seemed fond in believing that anything magical would be to do with him.

Sometimes, with all the attention Voldemort gave him, Harry wondered if they were really all that far off.

Apparently Aunt Petunia had been overheard. Luckily, the man made no comment about his 'abomination'. "Ma'am, he ain't makin' it up. I dunno about the old lady ghost; I'm an officer, not a ghost expert, but anybody can tell you that the kid sounds like Inviso-Bill."

Harry looked startled. "Inviso-Bill?" It was such a bad pun that he almost started laughing.

"Aye," replied the guy, chuckling slightly himself. "I ain't sure that's his name exactly. But it's what the folks 'round here call him. Shows up a lot 'round these parts."

"Oh." There wasn't really anything else to say.

The man turned to Finley with an oddly superior smile. "There we go. They're obviously new 'round these parts too, so it prob'ly ain't a excuse. You can see any news and hear about Inviso-Bill – kid's like a menace. This kid's done nothin' as near as I can tell. Don't you agree, Finley?"

Finley swallowed his pride. He forced a smile. "Yes, sir."

"Great," the man said, then turned and grinned at Harry and Aunt Petunia. "Awful sorry for wastin' your time." He took a puff on the cigarette and opened the door.

"Sir, you shouldn't be smoking in there!" announced the guard at the door, scandalized.

"Aww, hell, it ain't hurting nobody. Besides, it's done now." He smiled and strolled off down the corridor, while the door guard gave a sigh of defeat. Harry guessed that this wasn't the first time the man – apparently quite high ranked, judging by him being called 'sir' – had decided he was above the rules.

Finley was glaring at the door, and Aunt Petunia was, not that the talk of the supernatural had gone away, herself again and turning her nose up at the smell of the smoke.

"Um," Harry prompted. "Should we go then?" He didn't want to stay there any longer than required.

The glare Aunt Petunia gave him could have wilted roses. At least, Harry thought, it meant that things were returning to some semblance of normality (or as much as you could call normal for a wizard).

For a while, anyway.

* * *

Author's Note: At Paradoxical readers: No, I haven't forgotten it, I'm working on the plan. I need to plan in short bursts of 6 or so chapters, otherwise I destroy everything meant to happen, which is really frustrating. 

Reviews appreciated.


	2. Chapter 1

Toeing the Line: _(by timydamonkey)_

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Author's Note: I originally planned on calling this fic Hot Coals, but decided against it (read: I forgot). Think I should switch it? I'm unsure. Also, an obligatory self-plug: consider reading Paradoxical, if you like this, because that's my main project. :) Updates may be sparse in November as I am planning on doing NaNoWriMo. 

Thank you for the reviews for the prologue (they're much appreciated), and Happy Halloween, everybody.

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**Part One: Beforehand**

Chapter One:

_2 weeks earlier…_

For a moment, Harry felt very relieved to be at the Dursley household. Normally this would be an absurd thought, but at least he could get some space now. He'd just returned from King's Cross Station with his uncle, and the trip had been silent practically the whole way.

In a way, that relieved him, too, but it also made him uneasy. It'd just been too uncomfortable stuck with Uncle Vernon, so Harry started upstairs, dragging his trunk after him. It would soon be relegated to the cupboard under the stairs like always, but first he had some things he needed to unpack. He intended to take advantage of it not being locked up yet, to save the need for a break-in over getting references for his homework.

He supposed it would amuse Ron that he'd go to such lengths to do homework – perhaps being in the Dursley household was just good motivation. It didn't mean that he had to like being stuck there.

"What are you planning on doing with that, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked him. He was referring to the trunk. Much as Harry wanted to say 'duh, what do you think?' he knew it wouldn't be a good idea. It was a shame that he wasn't on good terms with any Slytherins, as he had a sudden urge to let them know that the notion of Gryffindors being without a sense of self-preservation was ridiculous.

"I'm going to unpack."

"Don't bother," his uncle informed him stiffly. "We are going to take a holiday."

Harry stared. "Wh- what? When?"

"Next week," Vernon informed him curtly, just making Harry blink even more. It… didn't really make sense. He'd never known the Dursley's to go abroad before, and not to mention, they hesitated before bringing him on trips to the zoo. Why would he be going away with them? Had the Order forced them? Had Mrs. Figg got injured again? It didn't make sense.

"Where are we going to?" he asked cautiously. Maybe it would only be somewhere like Butlins. It wasn't necessarily _abroad_ – it was just a hunch that he had.

A hunch that was confirmed when Uncle Vernon said, "America. A town called Amity Park."

"Where?" he asked again, blankly. It wasn't a place that he'd heard of – and, _America?_ Had he heard right?

"I'm sure you heard the first time." It was Aunt Petunia who answered this time. Harry started; he hadn't seen her come in, but he supposed that she'd heard them. She seemed to have foreseen Harry being difficult as she carelessly tossed a brochure at him. He only just managed to catch it, still being in a daze. It was too irregular to be happening…

He glanced down at the brochure. On it was a picture of a quite large hotel. It didn't exactly look elegant, but certainly not shabby, either. The text on the front of the poster proclaimed that Amity Park was 'the only place to be', somewhere where you'd 'see things you'd never seen before' and provided 'endless adventure'. It even said, 'guaranteed that it will change your life'. A list of features showed things like a swimming pool, where he certainly didn't intend to go, and tennis courts.

It was almost too much. Was it trying too hard to impress, or was it just that Harry had never really looked at holiday brochures before?

And Harry thought it incredibly peculiar that it seemed to stress safety protocol so much. He knew that hotels must have it, and that good safety protocol was of course beneficial… but it was almost like it was saying it would be needed. Was Amity Park one of those places that suffered from a lot of earthquakes or tornadoes, or something?

He had a very bad feeling about the idea of this holiday. Where his aunt and uncle lying? Did they want him to say he wanted to go so that they could tell him he never could?

No, Harry scolded himself; that was just ridiculous. He'd turn into Moody if he weren't careful. He really wanted to ask whether or not it was safe, but figured that it wouldn't be a good idea, so opted for another pressing question.

"Why was I never told about this?" he asked, honestly confused. Most people seemed to know months in advance when they were going on holiday. At least they had a chance to be prepared, but not Harry.

"We have no way of contacting you, how do you expect us to tell you?" Aunt Petunia was practically sneering. She'd obviously got tired of his questions, and it wasn't as if he would get anything else interesting out of them.

Nonetheless, Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He'd been going to say that they could send an owl, but then he'd realized how absurd it was. The Dursley's didn't own an owl, wouldn't know where to get one, and he certainly wouldn't send one. Besides, he knew just how distasteful of getting an owl to deliver mail they'd be. It wasn't _normal_.

Still… he'd have liked to have known. What if the he had other plans? What if the Order –

And there, Harry froze. The Order. The whole reason he had to stay in Privet Drive was the fact that there was protection around the house, apparently. He somehow doubted that protection was portable. But him staying there alone wouldn't make much sense either; he wasn't entirely sure, but he didn't think it would work if the Dursley's weren't there with him.

He bit his lip. He needed to sort this out. Without another word to his aunt or uncle, Harry finished dragging the trunk upstairs and shut his bedroom door, the brochure still clutched in his hand. He had a letter to write.

* * *

"This is _so_ not how I envisioned my vacation," a white haired boy grumbled, floating upwards so as to avoid an ectoblast in the chest. He had bright green eyes and was wearing a ridiculous-looking jumpsuit. He threw back his own blasts at the creature in front of him. 

He was tired. He'd been ghost fighting for far too long now, and it was a miracle he didn't have any ghost hunters on his tail. He suspected that it was because they were being held up elsewhere. Maybe it was just that he didn't have much else to do with his day – and he never thought he'd have been thinking of school as a good thing – but it seemed that the ghost count in Amity Park was at an all-time high.

He hated it. Dodging another shot, he blasted the creature again. It wasn't a particularly difficult ghost, and not one he knew either (for the boy had acquaintances with plenty of ghosts after fighting with them so often), and he breathed heavily as he watched the snake ghost writhe and spit at him, It hit the ground, and the ground actually fizzed.

The boy groaned and pulled out what looked like a soup thermos, then pulled off the lid and activated it. Still snarling in rage, the creature was sucked in; unintelligible hisses the only sound for that moment. Threats, he assumed, and it wasn't as if he hadn't heard them all before…

"Danny?" a voice seemed to say from his ear, and he reached his hand to touch the Fenton Phones slightly.

"What's up, Tuck?" Danny asked, watching the street below him almost wistfully. Sure, it was a bit damaged, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. He wondered how much of it he alone had destroyed, and thanked the fact that he, the famous ghost boy, Danny Phantom, would never have to pay pocket money towards repairing this sort of thing. Although, he'd sooner be down there on that street now than up in the air and fighting ridiculous amounts of ghosts. But if he didn't fight them, then who would?

Besides, it wasn't like he ever meant to cause damage when he fought. It just… happened.

Tucker replied, saying, "Hey, it looks like that might be the last one."

"Really?" He couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.

All of a sudden he heard a scream through the Fenton Phones, muffled but there. Background noise. "...Or not," said Tucker cheerfully.

Danny groaned. "Alright, alright, where are you?" He sighed, bracing himself for another battle.

Why were there so many ghosts around? He didn't make it his business to find out how things were in the Ghost Zone, but maybe he ought to. As big as a mess as Danny liked to call the Ghost Zone, he didn't want his town to become that. He'd figure out why they were there and then find some means to get them back off to the Ghost Zone.

It was the sort of thing he always did, after all. It was the life of Danny Fenton.


	3. Chapter 2

Toeing the Line _(by timydamonkey)_

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Author's Note: Would you look at that - I'm alive! Yeah, sorry. I've been ill, I've been studying, and I've been ill again... I should be doing my Computing project at the moment, but decided to write instead as I've been idle long enough. Oh yes, about the sleepwalking segment: yeah, I know sleepwalkers don't have closed eyes. Jack doesn't, though. 

Additionally, talk about hard characterisation. I had a problem with everybody's characterisation this chapter! Let me know how I got on; I like to try and stick to canon characterisation when I'm not writing an AU. Thanks to all the readers, and sorry for the wait!

* * *

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Danny Phantom and am making no financial gain whatsoever by writing this fanfiction. I'm just a fan.

* * *

Chapter Two:

"This is ridiculous, Albus! You can't let him go!"

"Why not?" Ron demanded. "You can't stop Harry going on holiday just because he's Harry!" All he got for his efforts were a glare, and a look that could easily be interpreted as, _Why are you still here? Stay out of Order business._

Ron scowled.

"It is through my wishes that Harry must spend at least part of his holidays with his relatives," said Dumbledore calmly. "If they are going on holiday, there is no reason not to allow Harry to go." Before anybody could protest, he held up a hand and continued. "There will, of course, have to be measures to be taken for his safety."

"It won't be as simple as it is at Privet Drive, Albus!" Moody yelled, obviously very angry. "You can't just make a guard apparate in every day – across continent apparition would not only take a lot out of the person doing it, but to have to do it after a shift and repeat the process daily? It'd be preposterous!"

"They could stay there," Ron said stubbornly.

"Now that's just ridiculous," stated a lady who Ron had seen around but never bothered to learn the name of. Primly, she continued, "You can't ask people give up their families to shadow somebody while they're in a foreign country!"

Ron glowered. Stupid woman. "Yeah, but you can't just stop him going on holiday – that isn't fair-"

And it wasn't just that this was an opportunity that he'd have killed for if his family could afford it. Why should the Order be allowed to intervene in somebody's life? Even if that somebody _was_ Harry Potter.

"Ron," said his father wearily. "Go upstairs, please. This isn't your affair; so don't make it any harder than it already is."

Ron gaped. "But you-" He could see he wasn't getting anywhere. "_Fine_ then," he huffed, going upstairs. "Stuff concerning my best mate is obviously everybody else's business but mine. Have some of you even _met_ him?"

Disgusted, he didn't wait for a reply, but stomped upstairs. From below, his mother shouted, "_Ronald Weasley!_" He ignored her and slammed the door – he figured he was entitled to a bit of frustration once in a while considering that, these days, everybody in the world had more say in just about everything than him. He knew he was going to get an earful later, but at that moment he didn't care. He'd done his bit for his friend, and he wondered how you could nicely word that Harry had a complete lack of freedom that would probably come back to strangle him.

Ron fell back on his bed with a scowl and closed his eyes.

* * *

"Ron," Hermione said disapprovingly. "What did you say to them? Everybody seems really miffed with you today." 

"It was nothing," he grumbled, rolling over and burying his head in his pillow.

"What's up with you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't come here for the holiday to watch everybody mope, you know. And when's Harry coming?"

"That's just it. He might not be. He's going to America with the Dursleys – or at least, they want him to. But the Order… you know…"

"But Harry doesn't even seem to _like_ the Dursleys, and from what I've seen, the feeling is mutual…"

"Yeah, well, Harry reckons they know they won't get away with leaving him alone for six weeks, so they're dragging him with them. Doesn't seem _that_ bad if you ask me, if you get to go on a proper holiday."

Hermione squinted at him. "You're not jealous, are you?"

Ron sat up and glared at her. "Is that what everyone thinks? All right, maybe I am – a bit. Are you happy now? It's not like I'm ever gonna go on holiday, am I? I mean, portkeys don't exactly appear out of thin air, but that doesn't mean anybody _else_ shouldn't be allowed to do it. I _stuck up for him_, for your information."

"Oh, Ron, I didn't mean to sound accusing." She sighed. "But… it's not like you've never been jealous where Harry's concerned before, and…"

"Just drop it, Hermione, you're acting like you _wanted_ me to be jealous."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous! It doesn't matter. Forget I asked." Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione carried on before he had the opportunity. "So what's the security issue? The Order can't be there? I don't know if Harry even knows if they were following…"

"Oh, trust me, he'll know. You think half of them know how Muggles are?"

"They're not a different _species_, Ron!"

He waved his hand in the air. "Well, you know what I mean. Yeah, they can't watch him or something. They won't even go over there and stay if it's that important."

"They could have families, I suppose that'd make them decide not to do that."

"Yeah, but it's priorities, isn't it? They wouldn't even listen to sense…"

"Well, they can't exactly commute. Harry may not need full-time protection over there anyway; it's not like… Voldemort's… shown any sign of stepping outside the UK before, has he? Why don't they just… I don't know, tell Harry to write if he has a problem and give him some floo powder? It wouldn't be too difficult to arrange."

"Yeah, well, hell if they're gonna listen to me," said Ron, throwing himself back onto the bed as he stared at the ceiling. "You go and tell them. See if they actually listen to you, instead of wondering why the hell I'm here."

He was roused from his sulking when a pillow hit him in the face. Hermione looked at him indignantly, as if the pillow-throwing had been a last resort. "Stop moping and find something to do, Ron, and I'm sure you'll be much happier for it." She walked out the door, shutting it behind her.

Ron snorted.

* * *

Danny was so tired, he felt like he'd fall asleep on the spot. Sam and Tucker had long since gone off home, though at least they'd opted to leave the Fenton phones on to offer support if he needed it. 

"ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZzzzzzzZZzzZz…"

He had to admit, though, Tucker snoring was not exactly the ideal sound. It was like an irritating buzz in his ear, and he voiced this irritation.

"Poor you," Sam said, sounding like she was seconds from dropping off herself as her words were preceded with a yawn.

"What time is it?" he asked her, feeling like he'd been hunting ghosts non-stop for days, yet knowing that wasn't true.

"2:18," said Sam, and he could imagine her raising her eyebrow. "Geez, Danny, we're really lucky that it's break; imagine if we had school tomorrow…"

He laughed. "Well, I haven't fallen asleep in class yet. If it were tomorrow, though, I might be tempted…"

"These days, you aren't _in_ class enough to fall asleep there."

"Aw, Sam, I'm wounded!" He joked. "Besides, if I don't go after ghosts, who else will? My parents couldn't cope with this many ghosts!"

"Best to not tell them that," chuckled Sam. "I'm sure they'd be offended. Hey, are you going to head inside now? I don't hear any rampant destruction."

"Yeah, because the rampant destruction normally comes from when they're trying to smash my head into the ground," he quipped. "But it doesn't seem like there are any more ghosts about… I sure hope not, anyway, but I'm not sticking around to find out. I'm gonna head home."

As he was speaking, he hovered in the air and started flying.

"Great!" said Sam, "because no offence, Danny, but I can barely keep my head up, and if my parents end up hearing me, they'll be going on about you being a bad influence 'til next year…"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Good night, Sam."

"Good night."

He flicked the switch on the side of the Fenton Phones to 'off'. A moment later, he flew through the wall of the house in front of him – his house – then turned intangible and invisible and dropped through the floor into the lab. He just had to empty the Fenton Thermos into the Ghost Zone, and then he could go to bed…

There were voices. He froze.

"Are you really all that sure it needs repairing, Jack?"

"Yes! It doesn't seem to do anything," mumbled his father, poking the Fenton Ghost Catcher. "Now if only we had a ghost to test it on, it might do good! But seeing as no ghost seems to want to fly into it… we either need to improve the design, or find a way to entice a ghost into it! I'd even sacrifice the ham!"

"I don't think _food_ would attract a ghost, Jack; they don't need to eat, do they?"

"But that's the genius of the whole plan, Maddie! They won't have seen ham in so long, they'll _have _to go for it!"

It was his parents. It was just his luck that they were down there so early in the morning. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, a horribly familiar device perked up with, "_Ghost detected. Directly above._"

Danny swore under his breath. How'd he missed the stupid thing? It shouldn't even be switched on! He sped behind a counter and transformed back from his ghost mode, breathing heavily as he did so, hoping his parents wouldn't notice now he was no longer in the aforementioned place.

No such luck.

"_Danny? _How long have you been there? I hope the Fenton Finder wasn't keying into him again… And _no_, Jack, Danny's not a ghost._"_

He was too tired to think of a cohesive argument for why he was down in the lab, and closed his eyes in a gesture of defeat, but breathed a slight sigh of relief at the lack of accusations about him being caught out by that stupid device _again_.

"Aw, but Maddie…" Jack whined, then seemingly forgot about his disappointment as he shouted, "Hey, look, his eyes are closed! Maybe he's sleepwalking!"

Of course, excuses being handed to him were very, very welcome.

"I don't know, Jack… it doesn't really _look_ like he is, and I've never known him to do this before," Maddie said worriedly. "I wonder if he's under any stress?"

_Too right_, Danny thought.

He heard somebody move closer towards him, and then his father exclaiming in a much more hushed tone of voice, "_Maddie!_ You can't wake a sleepwalker! You don't know what will happen!"

"I'm still not convinced," his mother muttered. "But what else would he be doing down here…? And he might have _been_ sleepwalking – though wouldn't he have gone back to his bed? - but if he was still doing it now then I'm sure we'd be able to tell." She shook him gently.

Not expecting it after his father's outburst, Danny's eyes flew open. "Huh…?" Trying to figure out how he should react, he said weakly and unconvincingly, "How… did I… uh, get here?"

"Danny!" announced his father, grabbing him and practically flattening him. "Don't worry, son, I used to sleepwalk to when I was your age! But, you should be going back to bed!"

"Um… yeah… I'll go now, then… um… good night?"

He'd ran up the stairs before they had a chance to reply. He'd have to empty the Fenton Thermos tomorrow, but he wasn't too bothered at the moment. He just wanted to go upstairs and collapse onto his bed, because he was exhausted.

* * *

Author's Note: Again, please let me know how well the characterisation turned out. And belated happy Easter! 


	4. Chapter 3

Toeing the Line: _(by timydamonkey)_

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Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Danny Phantom, and am purely writing this as a fan of both series.

Author's Note: Look, I exist! Yeah, guys, I'm sorry. I've had exams whose results count on me getting into uni, had to write a creative writing portfolio to even get considered by one of them (I'm taking English and Creative Writing) and have come back with two conditional offers out of three (one being the one I required the portfolio for), of which I am proud.

My issue with this fic, if I can be blunt, is this: I have not seen Danny Phantom since I started writing this story, and this chapter is very Danny-centric. I try and pride myself on decent characterisation, and when things like this happen it becomes harder to characterise. It doesn't help that in this fic, Harry's narrative has a tendency to slip into dry humour. But I figure a chapter I consider sub-par is better than no chapter at all... and this sets up some of the things to come.

Because I forgot to say it earlier...** There is a space of a week between chapters one and two.** Even the Wizarding World can have slow mail, sometimes. :P

Can you spot what Danny, Sam and Tucker have forgotten later in this chapter?

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Chapter Three:

They were leaving.

Hedwig had returned with a letter from Ron and Hermione. Apparently the Order were debating over his fate and how safe it'd be, but they'd supposedly been appeased by a suggestion from Hermione. It felt good that he wouldn't have to argue it out with them – he had to admit, he would like to see the outside of the UK, and he didn't have the energy for reasoning. 

He knew Dumbledore couldn't keep his family from going, anyway, and while Harry knew little about wards, he suspected the ones Dumbledore had described wouldn't work as they should do were his relatives not around with him – or at least not in the country.

It was a bit depressing, feeling like he was chained to his relatives, but he could live through it. He'd been through worse, after all. If he could live through more than a decade of Voldemort trying to kill him, he could survive a summer holiday that would only last a few weeks. It'd be fine. Really.

He hoped.

* * *

Danny was hiding on the roof of the Op Centre, hoping nobody would see him. As odd as it sounded, there was actually a perfectly rational explanation. Danny felt this was best summed up as 'and I got out of bed the wrong side this morning', but, as Sam demanded through the Fenton Phones which seemed to be his constant companion these days, that was not a good enough explanation considering everything.

"Yeah, dude," Tucker said, "I'm sort of expecting you to say there are a heck of a lot of ghosts around and they've learned how to merge into some sort of super ghost." 

There was a long pause. "It's nothing that bad," assured Danny, "or at least I hope that won't happen. I was just having a little… flashback… to the time the town became filled with ghost hunters trying to capture me."

"…Do I really wanna hear this?" asked Tucker, but nobody deigned to give him an answer.

"Flashbacking wouldn't explain why you've just said you're hiding on a roof," pointed out Sam, and then paused for a minute. "Wait. Maybe it would. _Why_ were you flashbacking?"

Danny sighed. His friends always knew how to ask the right – or wrong, depending on how you looked at it – questions. 

"Well," Danny started, "It was like this…"

* * *

When Danny had woken up, he hadn't had the impression it would be particularly different than any other day. Due to his parents deciding to go lab-hijacking the previous night, he'd been unable to release the ghosts from the thermos into the Ghost Zone, and he knew he needed to go and do it. Sighing, he grabbed the container and, going ghost, dropped through the floors and into the basement.

Almost immediately, he flew back up through the ceiling. "_What the…!"_ His voice was a strangled yelp. Unfortunately, his mother heard, but she seemed to recognise it as him rather than the 'ghost boy'. She called up the stairs for him, and he flew back up so he could go down the stairs the normal route.

He was glad to see his mother, anyway. She had some explaining to do, and he figured she would make more sense – and need less bribing – than his father.

Entering the kitchen, Danny decided to go for the more direct approach. "Mom? Why are there people in the lab?"

Blinking, his mother asked, "How did you know that?"

Danny felt a sudden need to kick himself. He'd almost forgotten it wasn't a valid excuse to have floated through the ceiling and saw people poking around volatile equipment. It had made him incredibly nervous, too, given the record his parents' inventions had for zoning onto him. He was beginning to run out of excuses, and felt lousy when his parents were dejected that they 'didn't work' when really they were working almost too well…

"I… saw one of them by the door!" he said, vaguely recalling one of them had been somewhere in the vicinity of there. "I thought you didn't like letting people down there?"

His father, who was looking rather miserable, said, "They don't like our portal. Cutting-edge technology, an entrance to another world and they _don't like it_." He sounded highly offended at the thought that there could be people who didn't find this wonderful. Still, he had put a lot of work into it…

"Why wouldn't they like it?" Danny asked, curious. If they were scientists, he'd have thought they'd be delighted… and why would anybody else be in his parents house anyway?

"There are various agencies that track ghost sightings, Danny. There are a lot in Amity Park and, well, we are the resident ghost experts!" 

His father didn't appear to be listening to his mother, as he didn't seem to realise she was talking when he said, "They said they come from here. From the portal! The portal is only open when we're down there, and I'd notice if there were ghosts!"

Danny shifted slightly, well aware that he was guilty of opening the portal on more than a few occasions, and that he was responsible for a fair few ghost appearances… although he tended to solve them, too, so that surely absolved him from blame?

"They only want to examine the portal, Jack," Maddie said wearily.

"And dismantle it if it doesn't meet quality assurance! Well, I assure them, it's quality; we built it ourselves, right, Maddie?"

"Of course, Jack, but that doesn't necessarily mean they'll think it's all that useful…"

Danny stopped listening to his parents' argument and got himself a bowl of cereal, thinking about the new development. Now he was stuck with a ghost in the thermos he couldn't empty, unable to get into the lab, and more than aware that he was a homing beacon to far too many devices in the room below. It wasn't a good feeling. 

Suddenly, there was a slight whirring noise and a thud from underneath where he was sitting. The floor shook slightly, and the noise continued persistently, sounding as if was trying to break through the floor. A voice from downstairs yelled, alarmed, "The boomerang's got a life of its own!" Danny choked on his cornflakes and lapsed into a coughing fit.

Meanwhile, a voice from downstairs replied with, "Probably a ghost in its own right!" Jack scowled, looking like he was considering going down to the basement and making the people down there suffer with one of his ghost equipment lectures, which made Danny all the more eager to leave.

"I've got to go meet Sam and Tucker," he managed to choke out, before turning and fleeing from the room.

* * *

"…And then I thought it was like being hunted with Vlad's ghost hunters all over again, what with the machines going crazy and trying to catch me, and, oh yeah, weird people in my house watching the portal. And I decided that even my dad's equipment wasn't crazy enough to take on the Op Centre, and here I am."

Danny paused to get his breath back, and the pause became thoughtful.

"Well… maybe they have a point," offered Tucker, and even without being there could interpret Danny's silence as one of incredulity. "Hey, listen – without the portal, the ghosts wouldn't be able to get into town, right? Then you wouldn't have any more issues."

"One small problem, Tuck, what about me? I don't live in the Ghost Zone, so how does that explain my presence? Or Danny Phantom's presence, I guess?"

"Tucker has a point," Sam conceded. "I mean, there'd be no need for Danny Phantom – unless you wanted to, I suppose – if there were no ghosts to fight. So you wouldn't have to be in plain view, and…"

She trailed off. Danny shook his head. "It just… it sounds too neat. If it happens, something's going to go horribly wrong… I'm sure there's something we're missing here, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is…"

"When did you become the pessimist of this group?" question Sam. "Seriously, Danny… I never thought I'd say this, so you better thank me later, but sometimes you have to take the good as it comes." If this sounded like a suspiciously cheerful piece of advice coming from Sam, it was rebutted somewhat by her replying, "In fact, don't thank me, I'll just strike this moment from my brain, and let's never speak of this again." 

Danny grinned slightly. "What moment?"

"Thank you," she replied. 

"I know it'd upset your parents, man," said Tucker. "But you know them, they'd just figure out a way to build a new improved portal or something, and until then, the ghosts would be stuck. It'd be inconvenient for them to get here, and…" Here there was a pause, before Tucker burst out with, "…it's the only registered working ghost portal in the world."

"How do you even find out these things?" Danny asked. "I thought Sam was the one with the contacts…"

"I didn't devote my life to technology for nothing, you know," Tucker said, sounding disturbingly serious.

"Anyway, you two are getting ahead of yourselves," Sam said. "They might consider it to be okay and leave the portal alone."

"Sam, you haven't _seen_ these guys. I think they were trying to accuse my dad of disguising ghosts as equipment or something…"

"Was Technus hiding in the lab again?"

"I think he's still in the Ghost Zone…" Danny certainly hoped he was, anyway. "It sounded like it was just everything being normal... I mean, this morning, I'm pretty sure the Fenton boooomerang was latching onto me; that's what it's supposed to do, after all…"

"And seeing as nobody can see a ghost around… I get the point. But you can't stay up there forever, Danny. When are you planning on staying there until?"

Danny grinned sheepishly. "…I didn't actually think that far ahead."

A sound suspiciously like laughter emitted from the earphones.

* * *

Harry Potter did not like aeroplanes – or so he decided several hours into a flight to the US. He thought they were boring, overly long, and there was nothing to do. Not to mention, he didn't like the feeling of not being able to control the plane, especially given how much he enjoyed broomstick riding – he figured some Wronski Feints or even good old-fashioned loop-the-loops would at least relieve some of the monotony.

He glanced at his watch. Four hours before they were due to arrive.

The aircraft was thankfully small in comparison to the airport, however, which had not only been busy but filled with shops. The Dursleys had thankfully avoided them – Harry had never been a fan of shopping, especially for Muggle commodities – probably due to the fact that Harry was with them, but he didn't really mind. 

He was beginning to regret it, now – maybe he could have distracted himself with a book. It would have even been a great time to do his schoolwork, but the Dursleys seemed to go a bit faint upon seeing anything associated with Hogwarts in the house, let alone in public. He figured if he did try it, they'd probably pass out from horror (Aunt Petunia) or rage (Uncle Vernon) or a mix (Dudley). As tempting as it may have seemed, he supposed it would look a bit suspicious. 

At least flying had made sure he didn't have a fear of heights, thus he stared out of the window. He supposed it was quite interesting to be above the clouds, somewhere even he wasn't crazy enough to attempt to get to on his Firebolt… After an hour of seeming them, though, the experience was starting to wear thin.

Harry stole another glance at his watch. Three hours fifty seven minutes to go.

It was going to be a long journey.

* * *

Author's Note: Again, can you spot what Danny and co. have completely forgotten about? And, from the prologue, you know that whatever happens, ghosts are still around...

Reviews are very much welcome, and I'll take this opportunity to thank all my reviewers, and my readers too - you're all amazing.


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